First Night
by rcf1989
Summary: The newlywed Eddard and Catelyn Stark must go through the most dreaded, and perhaps awkward, task every couple must endure when the celebration of their nuptials is over, the consumation of their marriage.


A/N. This has been a bit of an experiment for me, as it is a joint fic. And that means I did not write it fully, I only wrote Cat's POV which is the vast majority of the fic anyway xD Ned's POV, which is the first you read, was written by my Ned in the RPG I'm in. Also, as it is set pre-series (both book and tv show wise) it doesn't contain spoilers.

* * *

"Congratulations, Lord Stark,"

"Thank you,"

"Congratulations, my lord. May you have a blessed life with your wife,"

"Thank you," He tries to smile.

"Both of you look fit for each other. May you support and love one another until the end of time,"

His finger fidgets slightly against his sleeve, " Thank you," How many had come to him? He had lost track after 30. They were all a blur now. Perhaps he was tired, perhaps he didn't care, why did it matter? He was not used to the attention, to be the centre of the room of which he was the axis of which everything revolves around. That was Brandon, not him. He winces at the thought, a mix of grief and the urge to just carry out one of his escape plans. No, he reminds himself, he must do this. It was his duty. As the heir to his Father. He must do this.

"Congratulations, on your marriage, Lord Stark," Says a man who had a beard that was long enough to hide his pot belly, "And you as well, Lady Stark," He takes her hand and kisses it.

She nods at this and he could see that the smile on her face was more polite than bashful, "Thank you, ser,"

He simply nods his head and watches the man leave. He hears a sigh and he glances to his side. She had straightened herself, her back and shoulders poised like any high born lady. He clears his throat and lifts his head. It was his wedding afterall. He should be happy.

"That seems to be the last of them, my lord," She says quietly and he turns his head to see that she was right.

He let out a breath he had been holding and met with Benjen's eyes who nodded stiffly. His brother clapped his hands twice and announced that it was getting late. He then thanked everyone for attending before ordering the servants to show the guests to their was a hum of chatter and the clicks of feet against the stone floor, which quickly faded and dulled.

He had thought that he would be relieved to see the hall empty, to see hundreds of faces he did not bother to put names to leave the hall and the ceremony called to an end, but what came was only anxiety. He knew what came next.

A long silence passed between them. Once, he glanced to her, to see the she was unmoving, her eyes still fixed on her hands she placed folded on her lap. Was she waiting for him as he is waiting for her?

He looks away and closes his eyes, "Come, my lady," He finally says, standing from his seat and offering her a hand. He should probably add something else, but no words come to him.

She takes his hand, smiling faintly, "Thank you," He hears her say as she brings herself onto her feet.

He leads her out of the hall, through a side door and into a corridor. There were torches lining the path, lighting it in a lazy glow. He hears several voices echoing past the walls, but he could not make out where they came or what was said. They stepped down several flights of stairs and made a few turns. Nothing was said, though twice it seemed that she was about to speak. He wonders how she feels about this. Does she feel the same?

"Here," He mutters as he reaches for the handle to a door.

"Do you have a moment?"

He turns around to see Jon, "Of course," He mumbles, smiling slightly at his friend before nodding at her to go inside first. She does and he pulls the door close after her.

"Congratulations," Jon chuckles, squeezing both his shoulders, "Though i can see that you are tired of hearing that word,"

"You as well," He gives a brief grin, "What is it, Jon?"

"I know that... we thought that we would be able to spend at least a week here, but... the war is turning for the worst and..," Jon's face turns grim, "Robert is calling both of us to him. We have to leave in the morning,"

He is silent for a length before he finally nods, "We will,"

A thin line was drawn across the man's face as he claps his hand against his back, "I'm keeping you. Go," He tilts his head to the door before leaving.

He watches his friend, the man he considered a father and brother walk down the hallway. After a long while, he finally turns on his heel and twists the brass handle, pushing lightly against the dark wood panel.

He did not know how long he had been standing there, how long until he closed the door behind him and stepped across the room. She had seen him in the mirror, but she does not turn to face him, instead she simply runs the brush through her auburn hair, once, twice, gently, softly. He blinks and averts his eyes to the fur rug beneath his feet. His throat felt dry, and he wished that he had something to drink.

He makes to pull his overcoat, shrugging it off and placing it over a chair. His mind had been racing. It wasn't anymore. He could not think. What should he do? Should he say anything first? Only questions. No answers.

He was down to his tunic now and his eyes flicker up towards the lady- his wife, he corrects himself. Both light and shadow danced across the face in the vanity, and though he could not read her expression, he could see that she was very beautiful.

He found himself staring and he quickly turned away, sitting at the bed's edge, busying himself with the laces on his boots. He stops himself at the top of his second boot. What should he do? Still no answers. He feels his jaws lock against eachother and he forces himself to take a breath in. What was he doing? He did not know anything about her, aside from her name and where her family lived. He did not know if what she loved, what she hated nor did he know what she thought of him. She was a stranger. She was his wife.

He stifled a grimace. No. It is his duty.

His duty.

He undid the last lace on his left boot and closed his eyes.

* * *

They had finally managed to bid their goodnight to everyone, including her sister Lysa and her husband, Jon Arryn. Strange how it all worked out, as both sisters married on the same day and during a joint ceremony in the sept. It was nothing like it had originally been planned for her but then again how could it be when the man she had been originally been promised to had died?

It seemed as if he knew his way around Riverrun almost as she did, which in a way was shocking as he had barely spent any time there, and yet a part of her enjoyed the knowledge that he knew where he was going as much as leading her to her bedchambers, soon to become theirs. He opened the door for her and in returned she gave him a court nod and stepped first inside and her instinct makes her move closer to the lit fire to warm herself up for a moment but soon enough she walked over past the bed and took her seat, in the small bench, by the vanity mirror. The custom was for it to be placed in the bathroom but she had always prefered it to be in her room. Not only had she walked in first but was also left alone as his presence was requiered, by Jon Arryn of all people. It seemed the men couldn't spend more than fifteen minutes apart.

As the door was closed she let out a deep sigh. A part of her wondered if her marriage was meant to last, as her husband's head had been asked upon at some point and that was one of the reasons why the war started. And she knew he would soon leave her behind to keep fighting the war, probably the next morning and she would stay at Riverrun until it all was over. It was the safest option for her.

She was left alone with her thoughts, which made her wonder one thing too many and she could not allow herself to do that, not now nor ever. She now has a husband and duties to attend as his wife. As if to clear her head, she rose to her feet and walked over her dresser to change her clothes. Her wedding dress had been bothering her for the past three hours, and now that she was within the vicinity of her bedchamber she could free herself of such torment. She liked the southern fashion but sometimes she wondered if all she had to suffered to wear those designs was actually worth it, and the same could be said about the hairstyles as sometimes they gave her a headache.

Once the intrincate dress had been removed, she quickly searched for her favorite night dress; it was a rich forest green made of cotton, with a few buttons from her collarbone going down to her navel and it was long enough to cover her until the fabric reached her ankles, although nothing was revealed as the gown was buttoned up. Quickly, she placed the dress in place in her wardrobe and returned to her vanity mirror.

One by one, all the pins were removed from her hair and the braids and intrincate updos undone and pulled a brush from the top drawer on the left. Parting her hair in small sections, she began to brush it as her mind was wandering once more.

She had married a stranger, the brother of the man she had once been betrothed to. She had come to love the eldest Stark and heir of Winterfell, and now here she was, married to another Stark.

She had had to accept the that fact just within days after Brandon died. She had mourned him in private, but never allowed anyone to see the tears she shed for his cruel fate.

Shaking her head, she brought herself back to reality as she kept brushing the sections of her long auburn hair. She now had to think of her husband, Eddard, and stop thinking of the dead as that would bring nothing but grief to her.

As she thought of her husband, she recalled the gentleness he had showed her throughout the day, albeit with his cold and stoic exterior he had managed to make her feel better than what she had expected to when she woke up that morning to get ready for their wedding.

As the door opened once again, she observed him walking inside through the mirror as she kept brushing her hair and as she gave him a soft smile it almost disappeared instantly as his eyes were cast down to look at the rug.

Taking her eyes from him, she continued with her task, until he finally spoke which returned her attention back to him, and it wasn't until he was done unlacing his boots.

"Forgive me, my lady. I did not mean to take so long when I left our bedchamber."

Catelyn nodded, and smiled again at him, this time more confident, as if already accepting his apology which she truly was. "I do know Jon Arryn is like a second father to you, just like now he is a brother."

"Your sister didn't really seem..." He stopped for a moment, trying to find the right words not to offend his wife. "Pleased or happy today."

"She is not and probably won't ever be," Catelyn confirmed. "She loves someone else."

"As you do." He added.

She had not expected that to be thrown at her face in that manner. True, she knew he was aware of her love for his brother as she knew Brandon had told him so as soon as she professed her love for him.

And it hurt. It was one thing to have the thoughts herself, thoughts that she could push away, to the back of her mind, but the fact that it had been brought up like that was completely different and it felt like a stab wound right in her chest.

Silence filled the room, awkwardness and tension surrounding them. Minutes passed, and as Catelyn finally was done brushing her hair, she placed the brush back in its drawer and rose to her feet. She saw it as her chance to put an end to the discussion. Lifting her night dress, so that she wouldn't trip nor be uncomfortable, she climbed on the bed and sat right behind him as the dress formed a small pool around her.

As she laid a hand over his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, she knew she had to finish the conversation right there and then, or it would linger between them for many years to come.

"Yes, I did love your brother," she admitted. "But he is dead and thinking of him will only bring sorrow to me."

He was quiet, and so she continued.

"I loved him as I got to know him, almost over the span of seven years and I must admit it was not easy."

"Is that so?" He finally spoke.

"He was too aggressive sometimes, or rough ofttimes. And very short tempered as well." She stopped for a moment to choose wisely her next words. "I may think of you as a stranger, just as much you do think of me of that I'm sure, but I do know that beneath that mask of stoicism lays a gentle man underneath. You are a true man of the North, cold and composed and hard on the outside as the ice and walls of Winterfell..."

As her last words escaped her lips she manouvered herself to sit on his lap, trying to have his full attention.

"... But on the inside," she takes a deep breath and softens her voice. "On the inside, behind all those walls built around you, you are as warm as the hot spings that run beneath Winterfell. You are like the blend of our home when this war is over."

With her left hand, she took his and placed it over her chest, right above her heart, and with then placed her right hand over his chest and slowly moved it until she felt his beating heart underneath.

"I do intend on also making my way there," she said, talking about his heart," as I know you will make yours into mine and then will come the day in which our hearts will beat as one."

"My lady, you truly speak as a tactician versed in the art of love." He said, with a small smile trying to break free on his lips.

She returned his smile. "Ever since it was announced I was to marry the heir of Winterfell, I was instructed in every art in which I could ever aid my lord husband with. And, yet, I took it upon myself to be versed in everything I could for you, my lord, for I believed what I was taught was not enough."

"Even if it was never meant to be me." He said, his eyes once more downward avoiding her gaze.

Removing her hand from his chest, she gently lifted up his chin, thus making him look up at her and as blue meet his greyish-blue she smiled.

"You are Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. And I, Catelyn Tully Stark, upcoming Lady of Winterfell, am your most loyal supporter and ever faithful wife as you will become the rock my life will be built in."

She barely had the time to say the last words as her husband was carefully moving her closer to him, as he had wrapped his free arm around her slender waist, until their lips collided. The kiss was unlike the others they had shared that day, as this one was raw and filled with urgency and lust.

Their tongues dueled, fighting for dominance, until she relented and gave him full access to her mouth. It was as if he was truly exploring the unknown warm cavity, mapping every inch to memorize it. And yet he managed to still be gentle with her, which surprised her greatly.

As they pulled apart, although barely as his arms held her in place close to him, they were panting. She then rested her head over his shoulder, feeling both safe and comforted in his embrace.

They were quiet, the sound of their now evened out breaths and the constant sound of the fireplace consuming another log filled the room, until he spoke again.

"I must part tomorrow morning, my lady." He said in a solemn tone.

"I feared as much." She confessed, now aware that what she dreaded had come a reality.

Feeling one of his hands slowing moving up her back she expected anything except what he did, as he took between his fingers a long strand of auburn hair and twirled it a few times, getting a giggle out of her in the process as she found the gesture adorable.

"I did not know you would enjoy playing with my hair, my lord."

"Nor did I imagine so."

As she looked up at him, she found him smiling down at her and she noticed that it was the first true smile he had given her, and she noticed how it light up his face just as much as it made him looked more calm and at ease with the situation they were in.

"If it please you, you can play with my hair for as long as you wish."

It was almost as if he was awaiting her permission, as soon the strand he had been his fingers was freed and he ran his hands through the mass of auburn tresses, always careful not to pull too hard on it. Minutes passed, each enjoying perhaps the only sweet moment between them, and Catelyn knew she was relaxing far too much as he was giving her some sort of scalp massage, until she felt the pressure at the back of her neck.

She was lifting her head, ready to speak, when his lips reclaimed hers. She hummed, her arms wrapped around his neck as his hands were busy, one still tangled in her hair and the other gently running up and down her side.

As their lips parted once again, she tugged with her teeth, gently, on his lower lip and then run her tongue over it as if to soften it. Her lips traveled from his lips to his chin, to his jawline to finish their journey on his neck; she found his pulse point and she could feel how it quicked under her ministrations, and a part of her was proud of such achievement as she was still a maiden.

Another part of her was nervous, and she knew he would be just as much, as they had to consumate their marriage that night. The sooner they got done with it the better she had been thinking all day.

She had talked with Lysa, and her sister had almost terrified her telling her that it would hurt, she would be in pain and sore for hours after their coupling. But she tried to put those thoughts aside, she could not let fear take over her, she was a Tully of Riverrun by birth and a Stark of Winterfell by marriage, and she would prove to anyone who dared say otherwise that she was not a coward. She would carry on with her duty as it was expected of her.

His hands were over her shoulders and that made her stop, and looked into his eyes wondering what she had done wrong.

"My lord?" She asked.

She waited for his answer and observed how, with trembling hands, he reached for the top button of her night dress.

"May I?" He asked, almost shyly.

She nodded her consent, and even then his hands were still trembling so she helped him to unbutton the first three.

"I am your wife, my lord. I am yours to take and claim as yours, no one else has before."

His eyebros rose almost to his hairline at her words. "No one? Not even Brandon?"

Her cheeks flush as she shakes her head. "No, no one has. Brandon... Brandon wanted to but..." She bites her lower lip, trying to come up with the right words. "He wanted to, many times, but it was hard for him to understand that I wanted to wait for our wedding."

His look was somber and grave, as if any happiness within him had left. "Did my brother ever lay a hand of you, my lady?"

Her eyes widened in shock and horror. "By the Gods, no!" She exclaimed. "He raised his voice many times, but he never harmed me. Eventually, he understood and never brought up the matter again."

Silence fell upon them once more, yet this time it was worse than the previous time as Ned placed her on the bed and rose to his feet, walking away from her. He stopped by the window and opened it, allowing the cool air of the night inside.

Catelyn observed him, wondering what had she done wrong or what if she had ruined it all. She observed him in silence, even if now she was getting cold she would not take one of the furs over her bed to keep herself warm, she had to get used to the cold after all.

Minutes passed, and he finally closed the window. He then walked calmy and stood before the hearth, still silent. Unable to take it anymore, she rose from the bed and approached him calmly. As she was next to him, she laid a hand on his arm and gave it a soft squeeze to let him know she was next to him.

"Eddard, did I... Did I do something wrong?"

"It's Ned."

"Pardon me?"

"Call me Ned. All friends and family do, as you should."

She nodded, as she noticed his stoic mask was back. "In that case, you may call me Cat."

He chuckled at that and turned to look at her. "Cat?"

"Yes, my lord?"

"Forgive me for my harsh reaction, I did not mean to upset you."

"You did not, I feared I had made a mistake."

"You have not, but it only feels as if..."

"...No matter what we do, we only find more obstacles around us making it more awkward?" She finished for him.

"I'm afraid so."

She then looked down at the fire, as she could not bear herself to look at him as she spoke.

"I am afraid of something greater and darker, Ned." His named rolled off her tongue easily and yet it was almost foreign as the man himself.

"What ails you, my lady?"

"The war," she paused for a moment, "we married this morning and you're leaving in mere hours, probably at dawn my father himself will come knocking on my door to wake you."

"I will come back when we've won the war, and we will then go together to Winterfell."

She then dared to look at him, the tears dwelling in her blue eyes. "How do you know you will come back to me?" She asked, her voice breaking as she spoike. "Your father and brother rode south and neither returned, both died at the hands of the Mad King. Who is to say I will not have to mourn you as well?"

Ned then cupped her face with his palm, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb. "I promise you I will come back."

"Do not make promises you cannot keep," her tone had grown almost as cold as the breeze that had entered the room and that had made her chill to the bone, "this war is uncertain. If you, Jon and Robert die, if you and all your armies are destroyed so will our families. All of us are at stake at the end of this war."

"My lady... Cat, do not live on what ifs or imagine worst case scenarios that may or may not take place. We must live one day at a time and as it comes to us."

And she simply nodded. He then removed his hand from her cheek and took her hands, held them between his own as if trying to comfort her. In return she gave him a small smile and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to make the tears go back or at least stop those that threatened with falling freely down her cheek.

Once she felt the tears were gone she opened her eyes and was met with a concerned look staring back at her, to which she gave yet another reassuring smile, or what she believed that could pass as one given the current situation.

Slowly, she retreated her hands from between his and made her way back to the bed, sitting down on the edge of the side she always slept on. She barely had time to actually sit as her husband was hot in her heels. He sat down next to her, although there was a gap between them, and reached for one of her hands again which she quickly gave to him; in a way, holding hands have been a constant for them throughout the day and probably the only kind of display of emotionn both were comfortable with, whenever they are not carried away with lust.

"My lady, if I may..." He started, but soon was quiet.

"I know, we must." She added, aware of what he was talking about. "I only ask one thing of you, my lord."

"If I can grant it then I will."

"Be gentle, Ned, that is all I ask."

"I will." He said, and as if to seal his promise, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed its back.

She let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding until then, all the nervousness that had left her had come back in an instant, making her freeze. She is aware he will be gentle with her, just like he had been all day with her but that didn't make her uneasiness go away and if the way he was looking at her wsa any indication of how he felt, then he must've been mirroring her thoughts.

When their gazes locked, they both nodded almost in unison as if to give the final consent to the consumation of their marriage.

Inch by inch, their eyes never leaving the other, they closed the gap between them until they kissed once more, calmly as they had what was rest of the night before them. Perhaps it was only in her mind, but maybe, she thought, they could try to make the most of it and allow it a slow built and, in a way, make it less awkward for them both by growing accostumed to each other.

Minutes passed and no more than kisses and innocent caresses were exchanged between them.

One of his hands had made its way between their bodies and, trembling, undid the rest of the buttons of her night dress but her hand then slipped away. She was feeling exposed, and although she had an slender figure she did not want to disappoint him with her body, as no other man had ever seen her undressed she couldn't tell if he would find her appealing.

To her surprise, she found herself being laid down on the bed. She wasn't pushed or forced but rather made a slow descent until her shoulder blades, and the rest of her back, were in contact with the mattress. Her legs were then lifted and gently placed over the bed as well. And, she had expected him to climb on top of her and yet another surprise awaited her as he laid down next to her.

Turning her head to her right she found him observing her every move and quiet, as if pondering what would be his next move. She waited and yet nothing happened, thus deciding to be bold and take the iniciative if only to keep it moving along as she did not wish for it to become awkward once again.

She reached for the laces at the top of his tunic with her left hand, and slowly pulls at them so part of his tunic opens, revealing his chest and her eyes widened as she sees already his flesh scarred.

Her hand, now trembling, reached to gently trace with her fingertips one them as she wanted to know how it felt. She wouldn't dare ask who caused them or what battle gave it to him. The feeling was strange, perhaps because some of them were still not fully healed, but it wasn't unpleasant. Simply different from the skin skin surrounding them.

Her fingers travelled from scar to scar, tracing every single inch and stitch now left in him permanenetly, and in a way she was doing so to remember him in his absence, to learn something else about him and, perhaps, show him that even with those scars now decorating his body she would not be horrified or disgusted by anything, she would show the utmost reverence for the marks he gained in battle and cheerish them if in exchange he would return to her.

Once she was done, she lifted her gaze to meet his and he was looking at her with curiosity. Smiling at him, she gave him a chaste kiss as if to reassure him and returned her attention to his chest, now with an intention clear in her mind. She lowered her head until her lips touched one of his scars, and like mere seconds ago pressed a chaste kiss against the marred skin.

Just like she did with her fingertips, her lips left a trail of kisses on their wake, scar by scar, until she was done. As he showed no discomfort or complain, she traced with her lips an invisible line from his navel to his collarbone, up his throat and finished it when she reached his lips.

She had been so lost in her deed that she failed to notice he had been playing with her hair again, and only realized so when she gently tugged some strands as they kissed. In a way their kiss more passionate, as if the slow pace they set was truly working for them igniting a fire within them and the flames had slowly began.

Then she felt his hand over her bare skin, over her abdomen, and unintentionally she inhaled too harshly, making him break their kiss as much as retreating his hand from her skin. Inwardly she blamed herself for her stupid reaction to his touch when she have welcomed it, not only because it was what she had to do but also because it actually felt nice.

Taking his hand in hers, she brought back where it had previously been over her skin and caressed it for a moment; her hand then made a slow ascent over his arm until she reached his face and cupped it with her palm. Giving him a nod, to fully confirm his touch was welcomed, she closed the distance between them and kissed him once again.

And it worked, as his lips were moving against hers and his hand, still over the same spot at first where she placed it was calmly exploring her skin. From her abdomen it traveled to her hip bone, and he stroked the area with his thumb a few times, to later on move upwards his hand over her side and finally reached her shoulder as their lips parted and removed the hand that was still tangled with her hair.

He then sat up and proceeded to pull her to him, to then sat her on his lap as if she was in a saddle. She was sure confusion was written all over her face but as his lips touched her neck she quickly understood and relaxed a little, leaning into his touch for a moment as his lips travelled down her neck, thus making her tilt her head back to give him with better access.

His lips were over her collarbone and his hands carefully pulling down her shoulders and arms her night dress, now revealing her chest to him. For a moment she truly froze as he had pulled back and was observing her, even if briefly as soon his eyes were on her blue ones. She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat and gave him another nod, slighter this time as she wasn't sure she could truly trust herself in that moment and closed her eyes.

"Give me your eyes." He whispered, and she obeyed as her eyelids fluttered open and her blue eyes then never left his greyish-blue ones.

His hands were on her hips at first, and they did not move until she relaxed as much as possible as she got used to his touch, and it was as if she had become an open book for him as he had not moved his hands until the very moment she sighed already calmed.

Her eyes were fixed on his as his hands moved upwards caresing her skin, up and down her sides at times, others one of his hands returned to her hip and the other blinded mapped her back, and she shivered as with his index finger he followed her spine from the back of her neck to her tailbone.

From her back the hand traveled to her front, and upon feeling his hand covering one of her breasts she stills herself, barely breathing, awaiting his next move and soon his hand moves again, as if massaging it slighly applying pressure as his thumb and forefinger tease her nipple. She felt its reaction, how it hardened benath his touch which joined with his other hand caressing her skin made her let out a moan.

And she blushed as she hadn't been able to contain herself, but it was all too new for her so controlling how her body reacted to him was something she could not control, and yet her rational part was telling her that, perhaps that night, it would be best to let her body and its natural reactions take over instead of her brain.

As he continued his ministrations, at times moving from a breast to the other, she felt herself getting more ready for him; her arousement rose with every touch as much as with every kiss that then followed. In a sense, she was becoming maleable putty in his hands willingly. She felt his lips and fingertips, it was as if he were able to touch her everywhere and yet he managed to be gentle with her, just as she had asked of him.

Just as he had done earlier that night, he carefully laid her back on the mattress. This time, however, it was different as the spark that had ignited within them earlier was now like fire, a burning desire that was close to consume them both.

Reaching for the fabric of her night dress, he slowly began to pull it off her body, down her legs and she lifted her hips to let the fabric flow and be removed from her completely, thus being fully bare for him for the first time. And so he was for her, as he pulled his tunic above his head and tossed it to the ground next to her night dress, whenever it may have fallen.

Her eyes were on his face as she did not dare to look elsewhere, she couldn't, but she yet managed to smile up at him as she looked over her up and down a couple of times before his hands caressed her legs and shortly after parted them, allowing him to position himself between them. One of his arms was then next to her as he lowered himself and she rose to meet him halfway.

Her eyes inmediately closed as their lips met, their tongues dancing together as their hands blindly touched skin, caressing and learning the curves and forms of the other. She wasn't exactly sure how long they spent like that, until she felt his shortened warm breath on her neck and his whispered voice telling her that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes upon.

She felt as if she would cry, not in pain or because she was saddened, but rather because of the sweet and gentleness he was still giving her. A part of her was already dreading being away from him for the months to come, but she quickly buried that thought in the back of her mind. She had to be there with him, and she was.

Feeling his eyes searching for hers, blue met grey, as his free hand caressed her inner thigh and she knew right there and then what was about to come. She knew she was ready but that didn't mean she was not going to stop being nervous.

She was holding her breath by the time he first entered her, even if barely, and she gasped as much as her eyes widened as he kept moving inside of her inch by inch until he stopped. The breath she was holding was released, shakily. Neither of them moved for the next minute, and she felt how she got used to him, filling her completely as they were joined as one.

He began to move then, very slowly, thrusting in and out of her and with each move she ached, it hurt, and yet she couldn't let the pain take over her, and she wouldn't as if she did then everything would be ruined. With one of her hands, she held tightly the pillow her head was resting over and closed her eyes.

As if feeling her inner turmoil, he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand and she instantly leaned into it, the warmth and slight comfort it provided her. His lips were then on hers, almost like a feather touch at first, barely there but present all the same. And it was her the one who fully captured his lips, tugging first on his lower lip with her teeth until he was kissing her they way she had seeked him out.

She instantly missed the warmth of his hand as it left her cheek but was surprised when she soon felt it hovering above her free hand, then lacing their fingers together as if bringing their moment to a more intimate scale.

The intensity of their kiss grew as their were pouring their souls into one another through their lips, trying to convey the feelings they have awakened in each other as they were still joined as one; keeping his slow pace, she still felt him moving in and out of her but the pain lessened as she grew used to the sensation.

Minutes passed skin against skin, mouth to mouth, and absentmindly she began to move her hips following his rhythm, meeting him thrust for thrust, and as if her own instincts took over she wrapped one of her legs around his waist pulling him closer to her.

The hand that once was clutching a pillow was then over his back, her nails leaving a trail of angry red marks over his skin but he never complained, not even once he showed displeasure in her act. The only sounds that came from him were grunts or groans, that were matched with her soft moans. Those were the only sounds filling the bedchamber, until she asked him to move faster and without questioning her plea he obliged quicking their pace.

The friction between them was driving her to the proverbial edge closer and closer, as she began to feel her muscles tightening in her lower abdomen, just as her breath, as much as his, was more laboured.

She lost all meassure of time, what only mattered was how she was feeling almost reaching a point in which everything was so intense that she believed she couldn't bear it anymore, and yet with a final thrust she felt it. From the top of her head to her toes, the tingling sensation, the bliss and calmness that took over her as she reached her climax.

He collapsed partly over and next to her, and neither moved until they fully returned to themselves, their breathing evened out and both with a relaxed expression and yet she felt exhausted. She had not expected a slight feeling of mourn to invade her as he pulled out of her, no longer joined to him she felt as if something was missing.

The feeling didn't last for long as he pulled the duvet and furs over them, and soon she was in his arms as if she had always belonged there, as if she was exactly made to fit his form. One of her legs tangled with one of his just as one of her arms was lazily over his chest, and yet she like the feeling of his chest as serving as her pillow. Again, he didn't seem to mind it as he was absentmindly twirling between his fingers a few strands of her auburn hair and she couldn't help it smiling at the sight.

Somehow, she felt herself not only fulfilled but resembling happinness, or as much as she was able to muster given their situation. She then decided to bid him goodnight, and in return he pressed his lips against the top of her head. In the morning she knew she would be sore and her body would ache in more ways and places that she had ever imagined, and yet she was not able to find a single thought in her mind telling her that she should feel any other way but blessed and safe in the arms of her husband.


End file.
